They call him Masque.I call him God.The man I want to consume me, own me,break me and corrupt me.Yet I've never seen his face.His body ripples like an Adonis, sculpted in steel anddripping in sin. His flesh is inked with the mark of thechimera - one body, two very different halves.He plays hard.He plays rough.He has no limits.He's so fucking dirty bad wrong.But I love him for it.

They say Callum Jackson's a savage. No home. No prospects. No self-restraint. He's red-flagged on my system, a grade-1 aggression risk, totally off limits for a woman like me. But the rules don't allow for my dangerous games; they don't bend for my twisted desires. Callum Jackson is the most beautiful beast. A beast I can't stop thinking about, can't stop wanting, can't stop hunting... ...I just pray to God this beast bites.

He calls me his dirty girl. He’s just a caller, a sex line client, an anonymous pervert like all the others. Except he isn’t. He’s under my skin… his voice, his laugh, his twisted fantasies. He wants to watch me with other men. Lots of other men. He wants me blindfolded and bound and taken by strangers until I’m a used-up mess. Then he wants to take me himself. I should hang up, report him to my supervisor. But I won’t.